#and then you go inside but slowly

[author-morgan]

Title: Cold Hands Pairing: Tormund Giantsbane x fem!Reader Rating: M Summary: After the Battle of Castle Black, Jon needs someone to ensure their wildling prisoner makes it through the night. Because Tormund's the type you just want to rage fuck and I've been looking for an excuse to write for him since like 2017. tagging @mrsragnarlodbrok suffer with me

THE STEWARDS’ QUARTERS are dimly light and crowded in the wake of the night’s battle with the wounded members of the Night’s Watch. You rise from looking over little Olly’s scrapes and bruises, passing the boy a cup of watered ale to help him sleep —forget the horrors of the fighting. Castle Black was no place for a woman, and every estranged look cast in your direction from one of the men reminded you of that. Frowning, you wipe your hands on a stained apron and step outside into the frozen air. Below, men are clearing out the dead, a mix of wildlings and their own brothers, and beginning to make repairs to fortify the defenses should there be another attack. Jon Snow approaches you and lowers his head in greeting. “I have someone I need you to tend to,” he utters.

Castle Black’s dungeon is not large, only a single line of iron-barred cells in a short corridor —unoccupied save for the hulking figure at the very back in chains and pocked with broken arrows and crossbow bolts. He wears the thick, mismatched furs of the wildlings, but the fire in his hair is unmistakable. Tormund Giantsbane. Jon unlocks the cell and steps back, letting you pass. “Hurt a hair on her head,” Jon Snow starts, ice in his voice, “and you’ll be joining your kin on the pyre.”

You give Jon Snow a final nod of assurance —you’ve dealt with worse men than Tormund Giantsbane— and the bastard retreats down the corridor as you set down a flagon of icy water and a satchel of herbs and vials. “Tormund,” you greet, unwilling to shy away from his burning bright-blue stare. His notoriety spans north and south of the Wall —the man who suckled a giantess’s teat and fucked she-bears. Someone who you wouldn’t have expected to find stuck like a pincushion and locked away.

“Heard them say you’re a witch,” he grunts, hiding a scowl as you prod the arrow in his shoulder. You lift a curious brow. The crows call you a wood’s witch. In truth, you’re only a skilled herbalist with knowledge acquired from patching up members of the Night’s Watch over the years. Maybe it is a good thing they call you a witch —the men of the Watch didn’t much care for spirits and magic. “Don’t look like a witch,” Tormund notes, his voice rough. “All the witches I’ve known had warts and crooked noses” —he glares when you pull the first arrow from him without warning, knowing they were only bodkin points — “lived in trees.”

You lay a damp cloth over the bleeding wound before sliding around to his back. The arrows needed to be removed before you could strip him of the heavy furs to properly tend him. “If I had a cock,” you start with a dry laugh, “they’d call me a maester and give me a heavy chain to wear ‘round my neck.” Pressing your hand next to a second arrow, you wiggle the broken shaft, ensuring the arrowhead would come free too when you finally pull. You see the muscles in his neck tense.

“No more crows to worry over?” Tormund asks, voice gruff. Weren’t no more than a hundred men defending Castle Black on the ground and from above —a few more warriors in his warband, and they could’ve taken the castle to let Mance Rayder walk through the gates to the south.

“None that require my skillset.” He looks back, lifting a bloody brow in question. “Plucking arrows from men” —you snatch the third and final arrow from his back and toss it aside, all that’s left is the crossbow bolt in his leg— “sewing them back up.” Sitting back in front of him, you reach for the ties and straps of his clothes. Grimacing, he helps you divest himself of the layers until your icy fingertips brush against his broken and heated flesh. The wildling is barrel-chested with broad shoulders and strong arms —a testament to hard living beyond the Wall. Tormund lets you work in silence —defeat still leaves a sour taste on his tongue

HE SHIFTS AT the sound of footfalls on the stone, too light to belong to any of the crows. Between the torchlight and the few burning braziers, Tormund can see it is his sweet healer come to visit or torment him. The shackles on his ankles clink together against the stone floor as he moves around, scooting forward as you grow closer. “Couldn’t stay away,” he muses as you stop in front of his cell, setting down your satchel and water flagon. 

“Daily rounds to see all my wards,” you counter, pulling a wrought iron key from the inside of your sleeve. You’d convinced Jon you could handle the wildling chieftain —maybe it was foolish of you to think that.

“Best for last?” He asks, laughing.

You huff, rolling your eyes as you unlock the cell, stepping inside. “You must be feeling better,” you note, setting out all your supplies.

Tormund drops the last of his layers —a stained wool tunic— next to him as you kneel with a damp cloth and fresh salve. He seizes your hands, startling you, but does nothing more than hold them between his own —his fingertips are rough, palms warm, wholly engulfing yours. “You got cold hands,” Tormund mutters, seeing the question form in your eyes.

“Didn’t think wildlings minded the cold,” you note, holding his gaze. He doesn’t say anything, just grunts in response and keeps your hands held in his for a moment longer before letting you carry about changing his wounds’ dressings.

But curiosity gets the better of him. He’s not known the Night’s Watch to keep a woman on hand. “How does you staying here with all these crows work?” Tormund asks —the muscles in his back tense when a cool, damp cloth touches his skin.

“Didn’t stay with the crows,” you tell him, removing a day-old cataplasm from his shoulder, washing away flecks of ground herbs left behind. “Stayed in Mole’s Town.” It was a small unpleasant village, but it meant you were close to the Wall —the Lord Commander paid for your services as a healer with how few men were currently in the Night’s Watch and with Maester Aemon growing frailer by the day. “Or I did,” you pause, remembering the grey smoke rising from the south a few days ago, “before your lot put it to the torch.” He wears a curious look as though to ask how you escaped his warband. “Was already here tending to those who went out north of the Wall.”

“Fate then,” he decides —the Old Gods must have meant for your paths to cross.

OF ALL THE men currently under your care, Tormund is your favorite, though you won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that —it’d make him nigh unbearable. He’s no longer kept in the dark cells below ground, despite still being a prisoner, or perhaps hostage, depending on what Stannis Baratheon and Jon Snow have planned. They’ve moved him to an empty room in one of the decaying towers of the castle. You unlock the door, finding him pacing along the perimeter of the small room. “Come to enchant me?” He asks, still finding it amusing that the crows would call a woman like you a witch.

“Thought I already had,” you laugh, watching as he starts tugging at his outer furs without instruction, “and that’s why you’ve been such a good boy.” Tormund Giantsbane wasn’t even half as stubborn as some of the Rangers who’ve come into your care over the years —like Benjen Stark when he came back from north of the Wall with an arrow in his shoulder.

“Boy?” Tormund bristles. “A boy doesn’t have a cock–” his voice fades into a hiss when you press the vinegar-soaked rag to the worst of his wounds. He glares at you, but then his hard stare softens when you smile. Tormund’s mind wanders, unable to stop himself from thinking what’d it be like to lay with a woman from south of the Wall —and if you’d still have that sharp tongue with his cock buried inside your cunt. “Can show you I’m not a boy,” he says, lips twitching upward under his ginger beard. “Doubt you’ve ever had a real man.”

Your gaze flits up to meet his, undeterred by his advances. It’s not the first time you’ve suffered through them, and you doubt it’ll be the last if you continue working with men who’ve sworn to be celibates. “That all you can think about?” You ask —more so teasing than chiding— unwrapping the strip of linen from around his leg. The poultice has kept infection at bay, though this wound is healing slower than the others.

“When I’m looking at a pretty woman,” Tormund replies in all sincerity, leaning forward.

You can feel warmth rushing to your cheeks, but you won’t let yourself look away elsewise he’ll know you’re not immune to his charms. “Well” —you smile, thinking of the conversation you’d overhead between Jon and Stannis— “you’re soon to be looking at a pretty crow named Lord Commander Snow.”

TORMUND GIANTSBANE IS no longer a prisoner under Jon Snow. The Lord Commander means to take him and a score of men to Hardhome and let the wildlings settle in the Gift to escape the encroaching Long Night. Jon knows he’s the only person the others will listen to in the wake of Mance Rayder’s death. The air in the common hall is thick with something you cannot describe —the members of the Night’s Watch have not taken kindly to Stannis’s men or the red-haired wilding sitting below the high table.

Olly sits next to you and Edd with a white-knuckle grip on his spoon, the taste of betrayal sitting bitterly on his tongue. Your gaze flits between the boy, Jon, and finally to Tormund. The wildling’s cold stare is already on you. Edd raises a brow when he sees how quickly you look away, cheeks tinged with warmth.

After some time, you take leave of the common hall, turning to the tower with a small room where Ser Alliser Throne said you could reside, as there was nowhere left for you to go. Tormund trails after you —and before you can shut the door to your chamber for the night, he stops you from doing so. “Didn’t come tend my wounds last night,” he laments, pouting almost.

“You’re going to live,” you assure him, letting him come in anyways. Last you checked, none of his wounds were close to festering, and all were healing cleanly and quickly. Untying your apron and belt, you set them aside and turn back to Tormund, half-smiling. “It’d be a waste of herbs and linen.” Those herbs and flowers would be precious commodities with winter fast approaching. He watches as you empty your satchel on the table and replenish the supplies in quiet awe —his sweet healer with cold hands. “You gonna tell me why you’re really here?” But you’re almost certain you already know, and you’ve no objections, either. 

Tormund doesn’t answer at first. Instead, he steps behind you and cranes his head down to the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent as his arm slides across your middle, pulling you back nigh flush against him. “You know,” he rasps at your ear. The tickle of his beard against your neck is all the warning you have before his lips brush over your skin. Sighing, you tilt your head to the side, melding into his warmth and wandering hands. He tugs impatiently at the laces on the front of your woolen dress, but you swat away his hands and make quick work of the ties and break from his hold to shimmy out of the heavy garment. It leaves you in a thin shift, scarcely protection from the frigid air of the North —though the fire in Tormund’s darkened stare does set your blood aflame.

You step to him, curling your fingers into the soft leather and fur on his chest, and he pounces like a wildman. His kiss is soft at first, a gentle caress of the lips, but it grows deeper when his tongue coaxes you into what becomes a series of leisurely kisses, though each one feels more urgent than the last. Tormund’s hands wander to the small of your back, then along the curve of your bum, bunching up the fabric of your shift until he can grip onto the bare meat of your thighs. He must think you weigh nothing by the way he lifts you, opening your legs until they’re wrapped around his waist, your arms around his shoulders, lips never straying far from his.

He places you on the edge of the bed, then begins with the ties of his clothes and boots —throwing the leathers and furs aside in great haste— until he’s left in only a pair of sealskin shorts with the outline of his hard cock clearly visible. Tormund slips to his knees in front of you, wedging himself between your knees. Surging forward, you kiss him again, intoxicated by the moment. He’s happy to give and reluctant to part. “Thought the Free Folk didn’t kneel,” you challenge, combing your fingers through his beard.

“Only to those we choose,” Tormund tells you, dragging his rough hands along the outsides of your thighs, over your hips, pushing your shift up until you pull the thin fabric overhead, dropping it to the stone floor. You whine when his rough fingers brush over your clavicles, up the column of your neck —there’s a gentleness to the wildling chieftain you would have never thought existed. Tormund’s hand grips your jaw, forcing you to keep his gaze —affirmation he’d chosen to kneel before you.

Without another word, he leans down and presses small kisses around your breast, looking up at you the whole time. The small pecks soon turn into sloppy, open-mouthed kisses as his eyes close in focus. You reach down, carding your hands through his fiery hair —encouragement. He continues to inch closer and closer until he latches onto your nipple and sucks hard, using his hand to play with your other one. He pulls back just for a moment to nip at it. “Tormund,” you breathe, burying your hands into his fiery locks.

Tormund moves his hands to the soft insides of your thighs, squeezes them, then leans down, placing a kiss below your navel. You jump at the tickle of his beard, and his low chuckle rattles through you both, sending a wave of warmth washing over you, pooling low in your belly as he moves farther down. He groans at the sight of your cunt —slick already and begging to be feasted upon, and feast he will. He laps at you, firm but gentle, the corners of his lips turning up in a smile when he reads the pleasure making your gaze go soft and unfocused.

Then you lose conscious thought the second he wraps his lips around your clit, hands holding you firmly in place as he laps and licks through your folds, methodical and slow with a long and low groan. Tormund’s fingers brush through your folds, gathering the slick there, and he eases one finger into your cunt, curling, and stroking, then adds a second. He’s doing something devastating —the gentle pressure with each flick of his tongue— your breath comes in short gasps, chest heaving until it all erupts with white sparks. “All southrons sweet as you?” He asks, scraping his beard along the inside of your thigh, fingers still working you down from the sudden high.

“I am from the North, Tormund,” you remind him, amused.

“South of the Wall, though,” he refutes, giving one final nip to the inside of your thigh before withdrawing his sopping fingers and sucking them clean —eyes never leaving yours. It sends a shiver down your spine. He rises from his knees, and you stand too, hands going to the ties of his underpants. Kicking aside the last of his clothing, he lets you push him back to the bed and climb atop him like you’ve won some great victory.

He’s splayed out beneath you, looking up at you with those clear-blue eyes, clouded with lust, like a challenge. He let you win. You know that — he knows that. But here you are, straddling him with your fingers intertwined in his, pinning his hands above his head. He can easily turn the tables —flip you over and hold you down, and make you beg for him until you can't take it anymore. He can do all of that, but he doesn’t. No, Tormund Giantsbane likes the feeling of your weight above him, pressing him into the mattress, and he wants to see where this will go.

You lean over him and press a kiss to his collarbone, then to the base of his neck and underside of his jaw —his beard brushes against your lips as they move further up until they’re ghosting over the corner of his mouth. He turns his head slightly, stretching up to capture your lips in a hungry kiss. You moan softly into his mouth as his tongue drags over your bottom lip, seeking entrance. He loves the taste of you everywhere —the sweetness of your tongue, the salt of your sweat, the tang of your cunt— Tormund loves it all. Perhaps you had enchanted him. 

His hips press up off the bed when your fingers wrap around his cock, stroking him from base to tip, thumb following along one of the throbbing veins on the underside. You shuffle back, guiding the weeping head of his cock between your slick folds until it catches on the entrance of your aching cunt, and you press back further sinking onto him with a lurid moan —echoed by his own strangled groan and a string of curses.

You start to rock and twist your hips, building a pleasant rhythm, working yourself on top of him. Tormund’s lips are parted, breathing heavily as he watches how your cunt takes him in over and over again, a sight that drives him to oblivion, and paired with how you whimper and moan and the feel of your breasts under his hands, he thinks he could finish then and there.

Tormund digs his heels into the bed, aiding you as you bounce and twist atop him. “Tormund,” you whimper, knowing you need more than this —you need his touch. He’s quick to answer the soft pleading, hands squeezing against your hips, arms flexing to lift and drag you across his cock himself as his hips roll upwards, pressing deeper it feels than ever before. Leaning down, you press your lips to his —panting against his mouth as your chests move against one another, hips rolling and filling the room with the sound of flesh against flesh and a chorus of low moans and breathy praises.

It’s sudden when he twists around, putting you beneath him —his weight hovering over you, cock still buried deep in your cunt. “Fucking greedy,” he groans, continuing his slow pace. Something changes in his eyes, but you cannot decipher it. Instead, you draw his face down and kiss him again. You relax inch by inch, sliding your hands over his muscled back, the ridges of his shoulder blades, and down his arms, taking the time to fully appreciate the small nicks and scars you’ve seen a dozen times over now. Then he moves again and again. Each stroke quicker and deeper than the last.

His cheeks and chest are flushed in the low light, and his hair clings to his neck and forehead as his pace picks up. Long, calloused fingers bury into your hair, angling you to look at him. His other hand slides down to where your bodies are joined, rubbing your clit, knowing by the way your walls flutter, that you're close, as is he. The budding pressure grows, setting you on another precipice ready to fall. Your body begins shuddering against his, limbs limp but jerking, neck tilted back into the furs —shining with sweat. Seeing you like this is enough to push him over too. Tormund’s body tenses, his hip stuttering, cock twitching deep inside you with a spreading warmth. His groan is strangled when he thrusts into you again, lazily —just to feel his seed begin to seep from your ruined cunt.

You feel an old sort of contentment as he lowers his weight to rest on bent forearms at either side of your head —his hazy blue eyes staring down at you, the dark red of his hair and beard wilder than you’d ever seen. Tormund dips his head down, nuzzling against the crook in your neck.

On instinct, your arms wrap around him, fingertips following one of the curving scars on his back, relishing the feeling of warmth and safety. “You’re going to come back to me,” you tell him, mussing the strands of hair at the back of his neck. Jon Snow means to set off to Hardhome at first light, he’d said as such during the evening meal, and in the following days, Stannis and his men will depart to head south, first to Winterfell and then onward to King’s Landing. But you’ve no doubt Tormund Giantsbane will return.

“Aye,” Tormund agrees, rolling to the side. He’s quick to pull you along with him and tuck you into his side. “Then we’ll see if the crows can hear us all the way from atop the Wall,” he says, squeezing a handful of your bum. You laugh, pressing your face into his chest, and he laughs too, the sound coming from deep in his belly. Though it soon turns to a wistful sigh, should the Others take him, he’s certain his last thought will be of you —his sweet healer.

[taglist: @mrsragnarlodbrok @erzsebetrosztoczy ] if you want to be added to a Game of Thrones taglist or any of my other taglists, check out this form here.

#Tormund #Tormund Giantsbane #Tormund x Reader #Tormund Giantsbane x Reader #Tormund Fanfiction #Tormund Giantsbane Fanfiction #Game of Thones #Game of Thrones Fanfiction #ASOIAF #ASOIAF Fanfiction #my writing #i went overboard for this ginger fuck #slick as a baby seal he said #and then you go inside but slowly #tell me this man does not know how to fuck #this is your fault claire

[javelinbk]

Gay Byrne asks about families, and it turns very awkward very quickly. The Beatles' appearance with Gay Byrne and Ken Dodd, Granada Television Studios, 25th November 1963 - part 6 (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5) (x)

#it's funny how different john and paul's reactions are #john - knows it's awkward but is mostly amused #paul - slowly dying inside and can't want for it to be over #and by 'funny' I obviously mean incredibly painful #I'm not sure what ken dodd found so funny about john having a kid but there you go #the crew found it hilarious though #but it was still lovely to hear john talking so matter-of-factly about being a dad #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #the beatles #it was sixty years ago today #november 1963 was just the best month #javelin’s gifs #november 1963

[rottengurlz]

"I took you home // set you on the glass // I pulled off your wings // then I laughed"

#listening to this song while thinking about avery and noelles relationship #sure ill go crazy sure ill go insane #noelle has a lot of innocence about her she was very sheltered her entire life and avery perhaps unknowingly takes advtange of that #noelle hasn't ever dated someone before she was never allowed to but now she has avery burrowing into her skin #and forcing himself to fit inside #'i pulled off your wings' 'now you feel alive' i thought of avery slowly beginning to change noelle #how can it be bad if it feels so good? if it makes noelle feel so alive? #avery is the only person she can trust and is able to be open with why would she not trust him? #yes i did spend my time taking pictures of avery to put off writing audra's intro.................... #mysims #oc: avery #simblr #sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 edit

[leafuxxtea]

god the announcement of hnk (houseki no kuni/land of the lustrous) has got me in shambles,,, i haven't read the chapters after the 10 000 years hiatus so i gotta catch up (actually I'll probably re-read the whole thing)

‼️rambling incoming‼️

imo, hnk is one of the best series for deep psychological analysis,,, it had such a deep impact on me when i first read it (like 3 years ago) and still remains in my top best/favorites series 🥹🥹 i could ramble abt it for so long,,, the process of one losing bit by bit the parts of themselves and replacing it with something else (both physically and metaphorically) in an endless need to help others, but also as an own selfish wish to become better than who they used to be. Then looking back, and realizing things were so much simpler back then, and mourning that past self. (The fact that all of this revolves around their self-hatred and the belief that they're worthless is just. It's so heartbreaking to me. They've become so desperate for affirmation and yet still keeps getting hurt, by others and by themself too.)

i have too many feelings about the manga 😭😭 im losing myself to the brainrot, help-

#leaf yapping #hnk #any hnk fans here?? 🥺🥺 #I MEAN IT WAS PRETTY OBVIOUS THE SERIES WAS GOING TO END SOON ANYWAYS #god I still remember the infamous 2 years hiatus #all because ichikawa got a ps5 #i have so many thoughts on so many characters #rutile...ghost quartz...diamond...yellow diamond...antARCTICITE...CINNABAR??? CAIRNGORM???? 😭😭😭 #and last but not least. lets not forget our endlessly suffering protagonist. gods sacrifical lamb. #IM NEVER GOING TO SHUT UP ABOUT PHOS‼️‼️ #this series made me so mentally ill...like i was already mentally ill but it made me worse #i rewatched the anime recently actually and it made me super emotional 🥹🥹 #ichikawa. when i catch you ichikawa. #THE TRANSFORMATION PHOS WENT THROUGH IS SO INSANE ACTUALLY #ur telling me the silliest little guy is now...some imposing shapeless deity figure??? #lets not forget about when [spoiler incoming] #they lost their legs. then lost their arms. then lost their head. #then got destroyed and slowly reconstructed into a horrifying mix match of broken pieces #not the mention how they get shattered by the alloy when they have a mental breakdown #WHICH IS SUCH AN INSANE DETAIL BTW??? #the way they just. fully physically break down to pieces. from inside of themselves. when their mind is spiralling. #i think their portrayal of ones trauma is so interesting #ANYWAYS IM STOPPING MY RAMBLING FOR NOW

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

'yandere sebastian' 'yandere abigail' 'yandere wizard' give me yandere clint 🖐✊🖐✊

#random thoughts #stardew valley #love the idea of a clint who slowly loses interest in emily and starts fixating on the farmer #it wouldn't get violent so not REALLY a yandere he just gets kinda stalker-y and really passive-aggressive #about you talking to and romancing other people #i just wish more stardew mods kept the original kind of asshole-y personalities of the nonromancable characters #don't make morris a sympathetic guy whose dad died and he's 'just following orders' give me reasons WHY he thinks pelican town sucks #and make me be able to kiss him anyway #a character doesn't need to be morally good for me to understand their motivations!!! #GIVE ME ASSHOLE WIZARD!!! #actually you know what i love the idea of clint killing someone and immediately regretting it #like in a heat of the moment 'my crush's spouse is arguing with me while im forging and well.' #'i got mad and i had a hammer' #immediately freaks out but OBVIOUSLY he can't go to harvey about this!!! #so he takes the body (were they still breathing? he was so freaked out he can't remember anymore and he hates it) #and buries it in the grove of trees behind his house where you get that one statue #goes inside and cries himself to sleep or smth #gets all jumpy for a while until you trigger his next heart event #when you go to his shop while he's visibly upset and he's like #'would you still like me even if i did something really wrong? would we still be friends?' #and depending on how you answer he either gets moderately back to normal or kills himself #the ghost of your spouse starts haunting him btw. visible only to him #you can see inside his house before you enter during the cutscene and you (the player) can see the ghost #but when you go inside it's gone #if he kills himself you find a note saying to check out back to see what he did #my guilty pleasure is really fucking edgy character mods can you tell #anyway if you get married and have a kid after this the kid has your deceased spouse's name by default <3

[shiftywing]

3rd arc is merely a suggestion to me at this point

#a suggestion i will ignore ty tui #me after remembering that wof is not at all like the version i have slowly constructed inside my head so i can still continue to enjoy it 😨 #also i never understood those people who insist you HAVE to respect what actually happens in canon like have you considered i don't want to #i was going to insert a spiderverse reference but i couldn't figure out a clever enough phrase. rip

[butchdykekondraki]

i will never talk about what i think about gears on here bc a lot of you simply would either not understand what the fuck im talkng about bc all of my thoughts are phrased in the weirdest way imaginable or just. not care.

#[ren] #hold on i have notes. give me two seconds. #okay found them #uhh heres a piece of them -> #''gears; to me; is like if you put a dog in a kennel for its entire life and it grew around the kennel. i don't think he would properly - #- be able to grasp his surroundings if he was released from the kennel. i think maybe the kennel keeps him safe as it slowly destroys him.- #-i think far after hes outgrown the need to be kenneled he'd still sit inside it even if the gate was open. it's safe. the kennel is his - #- home. and he knows he's not really safe but he's still not going to leave the kennel.'' #<- does that make ANY sense. at all.

[rosehathawhey]

THE BOLD AND THE BEAUTIFUL Season 36, Episode 201 | Aired July 12, 2023

#GIRL take a biology lesson thomas IS what's going on inside of you #the bold and the beautiful #hope and thomas #thope #hope logan #thomas forrester #hope x thomas #annika noelle #matthew atkinson #soapedit #b&b #soaps #my gifs #for real though the way this man has slowly opened up as the week has gone on #like he was so clearly waiting for the other shoe to drop #of course it's once he's let his guard down and allowed himself to be happy #when brooke's nosy ass walks in to ruin it all #hope had better defend her man!

[calamitys-child]

Unstoppable force (I wanna make a ttrpg campaign I wanna make it so bad it would be so cool) vs immovable object (any time I see a rulebook or a form of literally any kind it makes me hiss and spit and have a furious panic attack and never touch it ever again)

#i want. to run a campaign set in a haunted funfair #where all the characters are just pitched as like. kids who like the funfair #theyve got like some discrete personal goal like maybe they all want to like. collect a rare prize. impress a cute girl. hide from bullies. #look im rereading It okay you get the vibes #and I wanna get them all pressing for those goals and just dial up the horror underneath it all #like one day a bunch of folk get sick with food poisoning from eating the definitely 100% pork #that definitely doesnt have a human fingernail in it #another day they might win a prize thats like. a cool hat with the name of a kid who died last year written on the band inside #and like. just drop little hints in there while running it as a regular funfair and social interaction game #and maybe they slowly realise that half the staff that work there are. dead. and the guy who runs it is like a vampire or something #but i looked at the fate accelerated rulebook - possibly the single easiest and most flexible system - #and i opened the character sheet pdf and went i think i hauve covid and had to go for a walk so i wouldn't kill my laptop in self defense

[carefulfears]

i’m ready for the californication analysis like i’m ready for presents on christmas day

i actually cannot w y'all sdjkfsk

#okay except like #literally in one of the first episodes when becca tells hank 'i love you no matter what' and everyone looks kind of moved except for #the camera ZOOMS in on hank who shifts how he's standing and gradually looks more and more unnerved #and then it ends on his voiceover where he says that he needs to work some things out. 'she won't always love me no matter what.' #and it's not long after that when she says that his lessons about 'happy endings' are all well and good but when people 'can't deliver' #you just have to move on. you eventually have to 'just say fuck you.' #and that was right after karen tells hank that he's a good dad!!! that he has nothing to worry about bc the one thing he has going for him #is that he's a great father!!! and he is a good dad but does it matter when something is always more important? when you're not there? #anyway. californication no.1 show about alcoholic perverts that's actually about a man writhing in the trap he built for himself #while his daughter slowly moves past him and grows tall enough to see inside to what he truly is #the family dynamics have unfortunately captivated me.....'his girl' is growing to where she can SEE him. she can see past that Good Dad #into the PERSON that he is. and that's so uncomfortable and empty. #thinking of becca moving in with him bc 'he has nothing' and she just felt like he needed her #californication

[torgawl]

talking about deaths. i need genshin to give us main cast deaths!!! it would spice things up so much

#i'm saying this while side eyeing diluc and kaeya like lab rats ahjsj #i don't think you guys understand how much i have been indulging in the idea of one of them dying #wouldn't it just be so tragic? i love angst give it to me hoyoverse i beg #hoyoverse loves the boys and is so insistent on making us know they're slowly healing and becoming closer #they're either going to give us ragbros like the past or end it all very dramatically and i wish it was the first but deep inside of me i #want the second option ✌️ #kaeya has so much potential as a character!!! diluc's lore can still be explored too they're such open ended characters #idk what hoyoverse can do because they have a so many characters to focus on but one can wish they will explore their potential🤞 #anyways this request is open to any character!!! ragbros are just my faves so i have opinions™

[transmascwillbyers]

Alright, guess who's finally getting to do Will's monologue from the van scene as an assignment in drama class?

#byler #it's me #hi. i'm the problem it's me #i've been waiting for this since july #freaking july #also i feel like there will probably be something so funny about me sitting onstage in a chair pretending i'm in a van #sobbing my eyes out #then the house lights go up and my drama teacher is just like alright you're making some really great progress on this one fantastic job #but next time can you add in a little more gay pining and a little less hysterical sobbing? yeah let's try that out #let's try it again with the goal of cheering mike up #given that it seems like last time you were using the goal of slowly dying inside #...anyways can you tell that i'm enjoying this a little too much lol

[suffarustuffaru]

✨

Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

AA this is the last fic writer ask question fr :o again it took me a while to get to all of them pfft but i appreciate them a lot!! this question especially is really sweet wkdndn but yes!! and hope anyone reading my answers to these questions found it interesting at least pfft

hmm…. compliment….. im a MAJOR stickler for detail :O i literally cant turn my brain off i have to get EVERY detail i can right whenever possible wjdnd. not that im always right bc im very much not but i try very hard to be!! and i absolutely adore trying to put a lot of detail and nuance into things in my work esp since i focus on characters mental thought process so much hah. i try very hard to do a lot (or at least i consider it a lot widjdj) of research :o for example i wanted to write astrea fic so i devoured every heinkel and reinhard related side story possible and now they give me intense brainrot. cries. since i write a lot of character study i HAVE to look at everything possible before i finish a fic or ill cry inside if i miss one (1) detail i couldve taken into account hah. so i do think im a hard working writer :o !! analyzing things for fun especially when i admire a work of fiction runs in my blood wjdnd it just Happens. i try my best!!

as for um. that one crack treated seriously gluttony if fic i did once (selfcest…). is it accurate to who gluttonybaru is as a character? no in the sense that hes written purposefully in that fic to be like. pushed to his Most Extreme. but also i did try to at least be kind of accurate bc. i combed through SO MUCH of arc 6 and the gluttony if to write him fr 😭😭 there was TOO MUCH analysis in that fic thats why its got a novel length wordcount HAH. hes always had a hate love relationship with “natsuki subaru”….

uhhh uhhh oh yeah something else vaguely related to this that just came to mind—for example my multichap pride otto fic has me like really wracking my brain bc pride otto has screentime for exactly 0.2 seconds (im totally good at math) so its like. i wanted to like analyze how he most likely thinks and what sort of behaviors he has and how hed even react in All the new shenanigans im putting him in. but im also working off of 0.2 seconds of screentime so i had to also go and look at how main otto thinks and try to make Many Educated Guesses on how otto goes from point a (main otto pre-meeting subaru) to point b (the otto we see in pride if). which is something i do every time i focus on an if character in general anyway HAH bc i think it gets easier to understand if versions of characters, no matter how different they seem from their main route selves, once you examine who their base character is and THEN you look at the if events and how its warped them away from their base character. if that makes sense. i think its really fun hah.

i also recognize though that it wouldve been maybe Easier to make pride otto in my fic a little more. dead inside. empty. bc i know that ive been writing a lot of his anger and irritation hah. and it wouldve made sense for him to be a little more tired kind of dead inside in his internal dialogue!!! but i figured that i might as well go a little differently with it to yes maybe subvert expectations a little bit (and bc. ok after arc 8 Confirming Many Things About Otto, no way pride otto wasnt angry at some point. fr.) but also bc. you know when a person whos been in a traumatic situation they couldnt escape for so long is forced to change themselves to survive? if that person manages to finally escape its like. now they gotta try and unlearn any trauma related lessons theyve learned now that the danger is over bc what helped them survive is now maladaptive bc the danger is Over. thats kind of how i approached the fic fr T^T but also i try so hard to write pride otto as the jaded ass he definitely is. theres so much jades in him for sure. (this sentence totally makes sense.)

oh!!! uh uh one small detail with pride otto—when characters have titles, he will almost Always call them by their title in both internal and external dialogue. reinhard is sword saint and julius is the greatest/finest knight and felix is blue, etc etc. otto is well. 1. emotionally constipated 2. distant from others 3. Going Out of His Way to distance himself from others 4. hes very fixated on power and hierarchy and 5. he is Very aware of the role hes played in crushing each knight in the knight trio. main otto Absolutely feels guilt even as hes being ruthless. i figured pride otto likely at least Used to feel guilty. if hes not still guilty deep down.

#ask #this. answer turned out way longer than i thought oops but then i started blabbering about analysis things. im a nerd HAH a massive massive #nerd #yeah i like analyzing if characters fr!!! so fun seeing how they changed over time…. #its also a fun challenge bc when u read the if most of them are like. ok aside from the greed if ln that actually goes into detail how #subaru changes over time so its like you know more gradual. with many of the other ifs we see him post-drastic change from main route so u #kinda have to connect the dots?? its fascinating!!! and if u dont look closely u could be confused on How characters changed so much. but it #makes sense once u squint a bit methinks. #gotta love pride if otto fr. ottos always been an edgy bitch pride if ottos just open about it with his black suit and dead inside charm #ALSO I STILL HAVE TO FINISH THE EX NOVELS IM WORKING ON THEM SLOWLY OK I GOT TWO DOWN GOT A FEW MORE TO GO

[meteortrails]

looking back final fantasy XV and breath of the wild were like, Really formative pieces of media for me in my teenage years lmao???? like wtnv solidified my taste for the absurd and mildly horrific, and then I spent the next four years obsessing over the narrative potential of road trips and all the soft and nitty gritty parts of life after the apocalypse. to be clear I was right to obsess about this - there’s something so insanely appealing about the idea that even when the worst happens, when the sky falls and the sun never rises and the dead no longer stay dead, life will persist. and in that act of persistence civilizations change and shift and adapt but they also stay exactly the fucking same. like we all see how hard that fucks, right??

#also both ffxv and botw introduced me to the idea of holy powers that slowly tear you apart from the inside #and the tragedy of the sacrificial lamb who was never going to make it out alive